


Duck, Duck, G-GUN!

by makingitwork



Series: Chase/House [30]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Happy Ending, House finds out, M/M, Murder, Murderer-Chase, Pre-Slash, basically it, because every fandom needs one of these, kinda funny, mostly lighthearted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was definitely Chase in the black jacket, hood pulled down over his face, shoulders hunched, no one would have seen it if they weren't looking, but Chase passed a man there was a tiny clicking sound, and Chase kept walking. The man didn't. The stranger crumpled to the ground and House frowned, watching blood pool from his chest, he was dead instantly, he'd been shot but...there'd been no sound, and now Chase was gone, disappeared into the crowd, and the man was dead. Chase had killed him. No one had seen. House wondered maybe if he was hallucinating from the Vicodin, but then he heard a woman scream for a Doctor, so he did the only logical thing. Revved up his motorbike and drove after Chase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duck, Duck, G-GUN!

House hadn't meant to see it. But he did. 

Blood, on Chase's collar, as the pretty blond chewed on the end of his pencil, doing his crossword. He frowned, it was just a splatter, a few drops, possibly from a cut during shaving, except...Chase didn't have to shave, he was basically a teenager, and there were no nicks on his chin. "Have you been down to the Clinic already?" House asked curiously. Chase looked up, pursing his pink, and oh-so-kissable lips

"No...should I?" He seemed genuinely curious, and so House shrugged it off, and they continued with their case.

The next time House saw something was amiss, it was painfully obvious. He was going through Chase's locker, looking for his lunch, Chase always brought in the best lunch, and had resorted to hiding it in his locker away from House. It was when House saw the tiny black suitcase that looked like something you'd store a clarinet in, he got curious. Tugging it out, he unclasped it, to reveal a gun. He stood there, frozen for a second, before he heard footsteps, he chucked the suitcase back in and slammed the locker shut, just as Chase rounded the corner, tugging off his tie- he paused. "Hey," House nodded, hand on his hip in forced casualness 

Chase rose his eyebrows "I take it you were looking for my lunch?"

"What? O-oh, yeah! Yeah, that exactly." He nodded and Chase shot him a reassuring smile

"I put it on your desk, House," he said gently, pointing to his surgical scrubs hanging on the side "Would you mind?" House swallowed, watching as Chase tugged off his pink shirt, and took the green scrubs House handed over. "The patient's been prepped for the lung biopsy, any last minute epiphanies?"

"Lots." House whispered, and Chase looked at him expectantly, but House looked away "Not about the patient. Go ahead, cut out his lungs, I'm gonna...go to my office...have your lunch." He hobbled past him, and Chase caught his arm gently 

"Are you alright, House?"

"Fine."

...  
...  
...

"Okay," he murmured to himself, throwing the red ball against the wall and then catching it "So...unexplained blood on the collar, a GUN in his locker...is he just a nose bleeding over protective aussie? or..." He desperately wanted to rattle ideas around with Wilson, but decided that his oncologist friend would no doubt run to Cuddy. The baby. So House went out on his bike, hoping a good ride in the cold night air would clear his thoughts.

And then of course, he witnessed the murder.

It was odd. 

That was definitely Chase in the black jacket, hood pulled down over his face, shoulders hunched, no one would have seen it if they weren't looking, but Chase passed a man there was a tiny clicking sound, and Chase kept walking. The man didn't. The stranger crumpled to the ground and House frowned, watching blood pool from his chest, he was dead instantly, he'd been shot but...there'd been no sound, and now Chase was gone, disappeared into the crowd, and the man was dead. Chase had killed him. No one had seen. House wondered maybe if he was hallucinating from the Vicodin, but then he heard a woman scream for a Doctor, so he did the only logical thing. Revved up his motorbike and drove after Chase.

He didn't find him, so made a plan for confrontation the next day.

...  
...  
...

"You paged?" Chase asked, in his white Doctor's coat, House stared at him from his desk for a moment, this boy...he looked so angelic, with his haloed golden hair and sky blue eyes, terrible fashion sense and good heart. He didn't seem like a serial killer. Of course, they never did. "Um...why do you have a bullhorn?"

"Why do I have a bullhorn?" House repeated "Well...maybe it's because if you pull out your gun and try to kill me all I have to do is press down, and all those nurses and doctors will come running in. Another thing I love about glass walls, you can't kill me here. Not in the middle of the day."

"House," Chase didn't blink "I had a patient, I thought you really needed me here, if you want someone to complain too, page Wilson," and he turned towards the door, when House called after him

"I saw you. Kill that man last night."

Chase paused. He didn't turn around "You have no proof of anything."

"I recorded it." He lied "I followed you after I found the gun in your locker and the saw the blood on your shirt."

"I work in a hospital, House," Chase turned, the perfect picture of innocence and if House didn't know any better, he probably would have believed him "I'm going to get blood on my shirt whether I'm working in the clinic, or the ER, or not at all. Patients sneeze blood in our corridors, that's not unusual! And blood is tough to come out!" He took a breath "I keep a gun in my locker because believe it or not, this hospital is a dangerous place, you've been shot twice, been held hostage by a crazed patients, delusions make this place high risk, and I'm just protecting myself." He gave House a small smile "See? A perfectly reasonable explanation, your imagination is just a little overactive, no need to get worked up."

"I guess that does account for everything," he pondered kicking his legs up onto the desk, bullhorn still in his hands "Aside from the fact I recorded you killing someone yesterday evening."

"Oh yeah," Chase placed his hands casually on his hips, pushing his white coat back "Show me the video."

Damn. He was hoping Chase wouldn't ask that. House rolled his eyes "Okay fine, I don't actually have a video. But I saw you do it, what are you?"

"House, you're probably just tired-"

"Don't feed me that bull-" he gestured to the loud instrument "Horn." Chase rolled his eyes "I saw you, and I'm not backing off. If I stole your shirt, and took the blood sample, would it match any recent murder victims? And don't bother trying to run to your apartment and hide it, I'd only follow you there." He arched an eyebrow "You know, you're suddenly much more interesting now that you're a serial killer."

"I'm not a serial killer!" Chase denied quickly, but one look at House and his shoulders slumped "I'm an assassin."

House leaned forward, intrigued "Seriously?" Chase gave a miserable nod 

"The guy last night...he'd raped three women. There's this...higher society, they scouted me in Australia, they pay me to get rid of these people on the streets. It's risky, and stupid, I know, but...10 years and I haven't been caught yet." House sat there, stumped for a moment. 

"Cool." House muttered, standing up and picking up his cane "So, do you have any reason to kill me?"

"Uh...no?"

"If you did, would you?"

Chase shot him an exasperated look "I'd look for another way. But...you're not the kind of person they want off the streets. Believe it or not, you actually do a lot of good in the world, House. I know that's probably shattering to your self image, but you are, to some, a hero."

"I see," House twirled his cane, dropping the bullhorn "So, I'm your hero? Great, I'm gonna go tell everyone you said that." He wandered past Chase who rolled his eyes 

"I'm still a killer House. Aren't you scared?"

"Nah. It takes a lot more than a pretty Aussie with a gun to scare this old soldier." And then he was gone. 

Chase stood there for a moment, eying the bullhorn, before he laughed, shaking his head in wonder. If anyone was to know, he's glad it's House. 

His sadistic hero.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Roxy Smith, thanks for worrying about me :)) 
> 
> x


End file.
